


Like a Leaf Is To a Tree

by MissViolet



Series: Bron-Yr-Aur [1]
Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marijuana, Picnics, Porn with Feelings, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissViolet/pseuds/MissViolet
Summary: Robert and Jimmy take a walk in the country and enjoy an open-air frolic.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Series: Bron-Yr-Aur [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779085
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	Like a Leaf Is To a Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Filthy, shameless porn follows a long pastoral intro - don't say you weren't warned.

He was edging his way towards the door when he caught Jimmy’s eye. Surrounded by a crowd of admirers, he somehow managed to spot Robert slipping away. Robert tilted his head towards the door, signaling that he was leaving. Jimmy was at his side in two strides. 

“Ditching out?”

“Come with me.” 

Jimmy didn’t answer, just guided his arm across the room and out the door. “Where are we going?”

“Bron-Yr-Aur. I have the Land Rover outside.” It was a risk. Perhaps Jimmy thought he was just going out for fresh air and instead he was proposing a stay in the country.

“My things are the hotel room. Except this guitar I just bought from Cole,” he said, retrieving from the corner where he had stashed it from the partygoers. 

“You can borrow pyjamas. Let’s go before anyone spots us.” He latched his arm around Jimmy’s and steered him down the hallways. He did not go out the front door but took the elevator down to the basement, through the hotel kitchen, and steered Jimmy through a freight entrance to the underground staff parking lot, where the Land Rover waited. 

Only when they were safely seated in the truck, the key in the ignition, motor running, did Robert breathe a sigh of relief. It was happening; he’d kidnapped Jimmy. He couldn’t help grinning to himself with a happiness that was nearly exhilarating. It was a long drive, hours alone with his crush, and the house to themselves for as long as they wanted, for they had just played the last night of the tour.

“I’m knackered,” said Jimmy, leaning his head back wearily. “Glad that was our last gig, it’s exhausting.” It was the unending travel as much as the performing that wearied him. Led Zeppelin were well-treated on the road, but being in a different city every few days took a toll. 

“Plus the debauchery,” Robert said with a knowing smile. He was alluding to their hot threesome with the ginger-haired groupie, or rather his performance fuck for Jimmy’s voyeuristic pleasure, followed by their intensely passionate frolic. He was dying to look at Jimmy and gauge his reaction but they were just pulling off the turnpike into the slower country lanes, so he couldn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“You were on fire tonight, Rob,” said Jimmy. He rolled down the window to get the fresh country air. “Really on. Damn, but you are good.”

“Thanks, mate,” said Robert, feeling his cheeks unexpectedly flush at the praise. “You were hot tonight yourself. So in the groove.” It didn’t begin to explain how he felt about Jimmy’s playing: the grinding hard riffs, the bluesy little interludes, alternately teasingly sloppy, almost lazy, then ferociously precise, manic, violent and erotic. They had chemistry on stage that was undeniable, and that lately had grown so intense he could practically feel the air crackling when they performed.

They were driving through the country, the air growing cooler, the land hillier, and further they drove from the city, the more the two of them felt the tension slipping away. Jimmy lit a cigarette, leaning his elbow on the open windowsill. Robert fiddled with the radio station, finding soft jazz. They were winding their way through Powys, through tiny villages and dark valleys, over hills and dales, until the villages were further and further apart and they were deep in the unlit Welsh countryside. Robert knew the roads well; his family had vacationed here since he was a boy. He deftly steered the Land Rover through the village of Machynlleth and to the outskirts where Bron-Yr-Aur perched on a gentle slope in valley between two hills. Robert stopped at the gate, got out and opened it, drove through, stopped again, got out, closed it, and finally drove off again, remembering how gates were one of the inconveniences of country living. 

The house was pitched in darkness. He could just make out the front door. He keyed in and they stood in the dark hallway together. The air inside the house was damp and chilled. “I’m sorry it’s so cold. And dark,” he said, taking a torch from where it hung on the coatrack. He flicked it on, swept it around the main room. Everything was neat and tidy, and there was a big stack of firewood and kindling next to the stove. 

“Hold this for me,” he said, passing the torch to Jimmy. “Shine it on the stove.” He used his cigarette lighter to make a torch of rolled up newspaper, and stuck it into the piled of charred wood in the stove. Then he added small kindling, and waited for everything to catch. 

“Sit on the sofa, it’s the warmest spot. There’s a quilt.” Robert walked around lighting the small oil lamps and candles that were the only illumination. He felt very solicitous about the lack of amenities. He wasn’t sure how Jimmy felt about using a privy or pumping water from a well. He fed bigger logs into the stove until there was enough to keep it lit till morning, and then he latched the door. 

“I’ll make you some hot tea,” he said, but he never got the chance, because Jimmy was already stretched out on the sofa, the quilt tightly pulled around him. He was asleep. Robert bent to take each of his shoes off, holding each of his feet for a moment in a curiously intimate gesture. He tucked a pillow under his head. 

“What, no goodnight kiss?” murmured Jimmy drowsily. Robert bent to kiss his forehead, but Jimmy lifted his face, and Robert planted a second kiss on his lips, unbearably sweet and soft, before his head sank back into the sofa cushions and he fell into a deep slumber. 

Robert puttered around in the kitchen with the flashlight, checking the pantry, which was disappointingly bare. There was coffee and tea, thankfully, and a packet of Bird’s Custard, and half-eaten sleeve of digestive biscuits. He thought he might have a cup of tea himself, but looking at Jimmy sleeping so deeply already, he decided he didn’t want to disturb him. Instead he went up the heavy wooden stairs to the bedroom, trying to step on the edges of the treads to avoid squeaking too loudly. It was cold upstairs, and he thought of the sofa, and Jimmy’s warm body stretched out on it, and he thought about joining him, but it was too narrow for both of them, and he wanted Jimmy to get some rest; he’d been burning the candle at both ends lately. Shivering, he undressed hurriedly, putting on warm wool pyjamas and wrapping a thick dressing gown around himself before bundling into the pile of down quilts and into the cool sheets. 

Robert always woke early in the country; Jimmy was still asleep on the sofa, one arm dangling over the cushion, when he came downstairs. He went into the yard to draw some fresh water from the pump, and stood at the kitchen counter, pouring the water from a pitcher into a washbowl. He took off his pyjama top and bent to wash his face in the cold water. Then he cleaned his teeth and tried to run a comb through the snarls in his thick curls without much success. 

He put the comb down. There was a large grey dog staring at Jimmy, tail thumping hopefully on the floor.

“He’s still sleeping, Chester,” said Robert. 

Chester licked Jimmy’s hand, and then settled back on his haunches, waiting. Jimmy groaned softly and sat up, the quilt wrapped around his shoulders, looking sleepy-eyed and adorably disheveled. 

“Was someone licking me?”

“It was Chester,” said Robert, pointing to the dog. “He belongs to the neighbors.” Chester pushed his nose into Jimmy’s hand and was rewarded with an ear scratch. 

Robert, knowing Jimmy’s habits, had already put the kettle on. He spooned coffee grounds into an old-fashioned percolator, and when the kettle was boiling, poured the hot water over the grounds. He got a thick china mug, spooned sugar into it, and when the coffee was ready, poured a steaming cup and brought it to Jimmy. 

“Dark and sweet,” he said, thinking, _just like you_. 

“Thanks, love,” Jimmy said, wrapping his hands around it gratefully. He sipped and looked around the room as if he weren’t sure how he got there. Mornings did not go easy with him, and he gulped some more of the coffee, trying to clear his muzzy head. He extracted a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He had slept on them, but they were still smokeable, and he lit one and sat sipping and smoking moodily, waiting for the coffee to kick in. 

Robert sat with his own mug of tea, comfortable in the silence. Eventually Jimmy got up and took out his new acoustic and began to tinker around with a soothing melody. He always liked to play in the morning, when his mind was fresh. Robert, watching him smoke, sip his coffee, and strum faintly, felt he was glimpsing a curiously intimate moment. So this is what Jimmy did every morning; this is where those wild melodies and ferocious riffs came from. 

“What do you think of this?” Jimmy asked, strumming a few bars of a lovely, pastoral lullaby. Robert hummed it. It reminded him of the softness of the country, the pale golden color of the dawn over the Welsh hillside. “Nice,” he said.

Chester began to bark as a stout middle-aged lady suddenly appeared at the door. She was wearing steel-rimmed spectacles and tall rubber boots over baggy tweed trousers.

“Chester! So that’s where you’ve gone too. Hullo, Robert. I saw the truck out front and figured I’d stop by with some groceries. But you know our old station wagon can’t make it up to your door. Donald is bringing them, but Chester ran ahead. He must have smelled you.”

“Hullo, Mrs. Awbrey. He’s taken a fancy to my friend. This is Jimmy Page, our guitarist. Jimmy, this is Mrs. Awbrey, the neighbor.” It was a turn of phrase for the Awbreys’ farmhouse was a good two miles away, but it was the closest neighbor to Bron-Yr-Aur.

Jimmy put the guitar down and stood up respectfully. “Ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, dear,” she said in a sing-song Welsh accent. “Now we were heading to the market when we passed the house, and saw that you were in, and I said that lad will not have a bite to eat in the house, let’s bring him some tuck from the market. Here is Donald now.” 

Mr. Awbrey staggered up with an enormous cardboard box, putting it gratefully on the kitchen table. He was much smaller than his wife, but with the same messy iron-grey hair and steel-rimmed spectacles. “Hullo, boys,” he said, and was introduced to Jimmy. 

“We stopped at the pub for lunch, and brought you a couple of sandwiches and a few bottles of the local,” Mrs. Awbrey said as she started to unpack the box. There was a good-sized ham, loaves of new bread, a bag of green apples, jars of jam and honey, a big crock of butter, a crate of eggs, a big wedge of cherry pie, a couple of paper-wrapped parcels, and two bottles of ale. 

“You are a life-saver. I can’t thank you enough. This is a regular bounty.”

“That one looks like he could use a few good meals,” she said, nodding at Jimmy. “If you go down to the inn tonight, they’ll fix you a nice meat and two veg. Hot bath wouldn’t hurt either,” she added, looking at Robert’s untidy hair. 

“I’ll bathe in the creek.” 

“Good Lord, you’ll freeze your bollocks off,” said Mr. Awbrey. “You can’t swim in the creek until July, at least.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that. I intend to, anyway. I’ll take some of this food, make a picnic. Thank you again.” Robert was steering them out into the hallway. He wanted to be alone with Jimmy, wanted him all to himself. He tried to give Mr. Awbrey money for the groceries but he wouldn’t take any, which was ridiculous as Robert had earned a million pounds last year and the Awbreys were pensioners. He would do something else for them; a cord of firewood delivered to their door would not be unwelcome. 

He waved them off from the steps as they walked down the long drive to where they had parked, Chester scampering ahead. When he went back inside, Jimmy was standing at the kitchen counter. “Can I wash?” he asked, indicating the basin. Robert took it and the pitcher outside, emptied and rinsed it, drew fresh water from the well, and brought the clean basin and pitcher to the counter. He poured some into the bowl.

“It’s primitive,” he said apologetically.

“It’s fine.” Jimmy stripped off his shirt and Robert looked at him, at his slender torso, his narrow waist and abdomen rippled with muscles, the sprinkling of dark hair at his collarbone. He didn’t mean to stare, but it was impossible for him to look away. Jimmy bent his head to splash his face. He borrowed Robert’s toothpaste and brushed his teeth with his finger. Then he borrowed Robert’s comb and ran it through his damp silky hair until it hung smoothly. “Do I need a shave?” he asked, patting his cheek. 

Robert came closer and laid a hand across his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there. He rubbed back and forth; the friction sending a shock to his nerves. Jimmy leaned into his touch, and Robert didn’t want to take his hand away, and Jimmy took his wrist and held it there.

“How does it feel?” he asked Robert suggestively.

“Bit rough,” he replied, a little breathless. “I could boil water for you.”

“Eh, I can skip it. You might get a little roughed-up when I kiss you, though,” said Jimmy, dropping his hand and moving away to empty the basin in the yard. His remark hung in the air behind him, and so did the hot longing it stirred in Robert’s mind. What a tease Jimmy was! He smiled to himself as he focused on packing for their outing; clean shirts, socks, towels, the sandwiches, a bottle of ale, two apples, a wedge of cheese. There was just enough room to stuff a traveling rug in the top of the old fishing creel he was using as a picnic basket. He latched it shut and hefted it to his shoulder. 

“I have a fresh shirt for you,” he told Jimmy. “We can bathe in the creek.”

“Didn’t Mr. Awbrey say we would freeze our bollocks off?”

“Could be, could be. I’m going to bathe, anyway. We shall see what you are made of, ole boy.”

They set off down the steep hill that led to the front gate, and to the footpath, and walked and walked, through the golden morning, over gentle hills carpeted with primroses and bluebells. It was beyond idyllic. As he walked in Nature’s splendor, with his burning crush at his side, he felt his heartbeat slow, and muscles he didn’t even know were tense begin to relax. He took a deep breath of the downy air, perfumed with wildflowers, and felt as if he were walking into paradise. He heard the faint ripple of the brook, felt the freshening of the breeze as they approached his favorite spot: a big old elm tree perched above a bend in the creek that made the water wide and deep, perfect for swimming. There was a grassy spot right at the foot of the tree, and Robert had spent many drowsy hours dreaming there, his back supported by the tree’s wide trunk. 

He spread the rug on the grass and invited Jimmy to sit on it while he unpacked their feast. There were the sandwiches, one pork, the other roast beef, which they split and shared, and the bottle of ale, which they passed back and forth. Then there was the wedge of soft white cheese and the green apples that Robert sliced with his pocket knife. He fed the slices to Jimmy, whose lips delicately brushed his fingers as he took the fruit, sending shivers down Robert’s spine. Their eyes locked as Jimmy took a slice of apple deeply into his mouth, and Robert felt his heart skip a beat and his face flushed hot. The feather-light touch of his lips on Robert’s fingers was maddening. The anticipation was delectable; he felt that he might die from want, but oh, how he loved to be teased! 

When they’d eaten their fill, Robert took a flask of cognac from his pocket and they passed it back and forth. He lit a joint, and settled himself against the wide trunk of the tree, legs spread and stretched comfortably in front of him. His belly was fully, the sunshine was pleasant on his face, and he had a nice buzz from the good weed and drink. 

“Want some?” he asked Jimmy, who in response came close to sit, not just next to him, but between his legs, settling back so close that he was really almost in Robert’s lap, his sun-warmed back pressed against Robert’s front. He caught the alluring scent of Jimmy’s hair: smoky and spicy, brushing his face as he leaned forward to hold the joint to his lips. Jimmy drew on it sensuously, purposely touching Robert’s fingers with his soft lips, sending an immediate thrill throughout his body. His cock, pressed against Jimmy’s warm back, twitched with interest. He returned the joint to his own mouth, closing his eyes as he drew. The next time he held out the joint, he found his wrist grasped in those long fingers as his hand was held steady to Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy puffed delicately, his sweet rosy lips brushing Robert’s fingers in a way that was unbearably intimate and suggestive. Robert felt his heart begin to race, and the familiar flush of heat in his groin. 

“I can feel your heart pounding,” said Jimmy. 

Robert ground the joint out carefully among the roots of the tree. Then he brushed his fingers across Jimmy’s soft, pouty lips. 

“You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you, love? It drives me mad when you kiss my fingers like that. I want to put them in your sweet mouth. And a lot more than fingers,” he whispered in Jimmy’s ear. In response Jimmy took his wrist and guided his index finger to his soft mouth and pushed it in, tonguing lightly, then sucking, then pushing it in and out. It was brazenly sexual, and Robert groaned as a ripple of lust shuddered through him. He pushed another finger into Jimmy’s hot wet mouth, and Jimmy sucked it eagerly, making Robert think of how his cock would feel thrust between Jimmy’s pretty rosebud lips.

His cock now throbbed, constricted in his jeans, and surely Jimmy could feel it pressed against his back, because he settled himself even closer, his legs pushed up against Robert’s, his mouth working on Robert’s fingers, and Robert buried his face in Jimmy’s hair, overwhelmed with the scent of him. It was spicy and citrusy, the same scent that clung to his clothing, and Robert luxuriated in it as Jimmy kissed and sucked his fingers. He held Robert’s wrist, sometimes kissing the tips of his fingers lightly, other times pushing the whole length inside his mouth. The touch of his tongue on his fingers sent a hot rush throughout his frame. Robert could not help thrusting his fingers in and out, sighing with delight as Jimmy’s hot mouth worked him up until he was gasping and his cock throbbed in his jeans. 

With his other hand he unbuttoned Jimmy’s shirt, stroked it off his shoulders, then he unbuttoned his own shirt, so that Jimmy’s bare back was against Robert’s chest, sending a frisson of lust through him. He wrapped his arm around Jimmy’s torso, glided over his lean body, caressing his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, cupping his hipbone, his slender waist. His fingers brushed his nipples, first one, then the other, and Jimmy exhaled sharply and released Robert’s fingers, wet from kissing and sucking. Robert skated over his nipples with his wet fingers. 

“Ohh,” Jimmy sighed, the sound kickstarting Robert’s heart until it was thumping madly. Jimmy turned his head and Robert kissed him greedily with his mouth open, tongues seeking, kissing until their lips were hot and tingling and they were both breathless. Jimmy squirmed, wriggling closer, so that his arse was rubbing right against the hot bulge between Robert’s legs. He kissed madly, passionately, and Robert panted and tangled his fingers through his dark curly hair. 

“You are such an unbearable tease,” Robert told him, hands gliding down, stroking his chest, his nipples, pinching them until Jimmy cried out softly. 

“Hurts a little,” he sighed.

“Yes, love, but you like it,” whispered Robert. His hand slipped down until it lay between Jimmy’s legs, rubbing gently, feeling how his cock swelled in response. He loved this close contact, Jimmy writhing in his arms, the scent of him, his dark curls brushing against Robert’s lips, his blissful groans as Robert cupped and palmed him through his jeans. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband. There was just enough room to push his hand inside, trapping it between the rough denim and the cotton shorts, and Jimmy thrust his hips eagerly.

“Take it out,” he moaned.

“What’s the rush?” asked Robert teasingly, stroking him through the thin cotton. Jimmy did not answer, but he unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zip, and canted his hips to slide both jeans and shorts all the way down to his ankles. Suddenly he was naked in Robert’s arms, and squirming even closer, nearly sitting on his lap, and his beautiful hard cock, white and smooth like polished ivory, rising proudly from the crisp dark hair covering his bollocks. Robert, still clothed, felt the unbearably delicious tease of his smooth back pressed against his chest, his hips between Robert’s hips. 

“You, too,” said Jimmy, twisting around to fumble with the belt of Robert’s jeans. He managed to unzip him, and his cock sprang out, and Jimmy settled himself against Robert’s bare chest, so that his cock nestled against his bare back, the base of it snug against Jimmy’s arse. With a shudder of delight, Robert slid his cock against Jimmy’s bare skin, back and forth, until he was deliciously hard and throbbing. He rested his lips against Jimmy’s neck, where the hair grew into fine short little curls, and kissed him lightly, flicking his tongue, making him shiver.

He circled his arm around Jimmy’s lean waist, and his fingers ghosted up his beautiful stiff-standing shaft. He cupped his bollocks, buried his fingers in the inky black hair that covered them. He stroked him lightly with his fingertips, until Jimmy whimpered impatiently. He grasped Jimmy’s cock loosely, thumbing the head, smearing the clear drops that glistened over it. He was rewarded with his soft cry, the thrust of his hips as he pushed himself in and out of Robert’s tight fist. 

Jimmy turned his head to kiss him roughly and awkwardly. Robert, for his part, was overwhelmed with the randiness of the situation: Jimmy’s hot tongue-kisses, his wild moans, his bare arse rubbing exquisitely against Robert’s stiff tool, teasing him, the way his cock throbbed in Robert’s hand, slicking his belly with the glittering clear fluid. He bucked his hips, moaning, urging Robert on, the slickness making a lewd sucking sound as he pushed his hot slippery shaft in and out of Robert’s tight fist.

“How wet you are. God, you’re eager for it,” whispered Robert in his ear. Jimmy quivered in his arms. His head lolled on Robert’s shoulder as he pumped his hips, driving his sweetly-aching cock into his tight grasp, moaning wantonly. The friction of his back against Robert’s dick was a delicious torment. He panted in Jimmy’s ear as he stroked him. 

“You’ll come soon, yes, darling?” he asked softly, teasingly. He knew he would, for Jimmy’s beautiful lips were parted, panting, his legs tensed and trembled against his own, his whole frame shook and with a sweet fucking motion of his hips, his cock throbbed out the creamy jets, striping his belly and chest. It was a delicious sight. Robert stroked him and whispered endearments. It seemed to take ages for him to finish. He gasped and moaned as Robert milked him of the very last spurts, until, with a final affectionate squeeze, he released his spent cock.

Jimmy was collapsed against his back, boneless, still breathing hard. He stroked his hair, kissed the back of his head. He was unbearably excited by Jimmy’s hard climax, by the creamy mess all over his belly. He longed to shoot his own spunk right into it, and wondered if it’d be very bad form to stroke his own dick while Jimmy was recovering his breath. But Jimmy was already sliding down his back, positioning himself carefully so his head rested on Robert’s thigh. He lightly kissed the tip of Robert’s straining cock, and tongued it, and glided his tongue down to lick his hot, full bollocks. Robert gasped with pleasure. His hands found themselves buried in Jimmy’s hair, wrapping the silky black curls around his fingers, tugging slightly. 

Jimmy kissed the head of his cock delicately. The anticipation was going to kill him. His heart raced, his cock throbbed, and he could barely stop himself from pulling Jimmy’s hair and forcing his stiff tool down his throat. Jimmy was working him up, teasing him like the hot little coquette he was. He kissed the throbbing head, and Robert flinched. If only he would…. but it did not seem possible that his hugely swollen cock would fit between those pretty rosebud lips, but Jimmy took him all, took him deep, until his lips were almost touching the golden thatch of hair covering his balls and the overheated head rested against the back of his throat. Then he relaxed his mouth, released him, let Robert’s massive cock slip out, and tickled the head with his tongue before once again taking him deep. With his sweet, wet, teasing mouth, he tongued and sucked until Robert was groaning with lust. He was on fire, consumed with passion, and his hips bucked to drive himself deeper. Jimmy cupped his balls, the better to steer his aching prick in and out of his hot and willing mouth. 

“Darling,” he gasped out, “Oh, suck it, suck it!” 

Robert looked down, enjoying the glorious sight of Jimmy’s pouting lips stretched around his throbbing shaft sliding in and out, and at that very moment, Jimmy glanced up. Their eyes locked and Jimmy winked at him. With a growl, he pumped his cock in and out of those sweet Cupid’s bow lips. He wanted it to last forever, the hot sucking, the tickling tongue stroking him, until his legs trembled and delicious thrills coursed through his body. And then Jimmy paused, and grasped the base of his cock loosely, his mouth hovered over his straining cock, blowing hot air, but not touching. 

“Oh, Jimmy,” he sighed, devastated. “Oh, ohhh. Do it. Suck it.” His balls tightened; he was so close, trembling on the edge. He felt an unbelievable electric rush throughout his whole body as Jimmy’s tongue tickled the head of his cock, flicked the sensitive underside, driving him wild. His thighs tensed and trembled, he grabbed Jimmy’s head, buried his fingers in the black curls, and his feet scrabbled against the ground. Jimmy held him steady, licked and sucked and tickled him, until with a hard groan, his big cock pulsed out its juices. He spurted all over Jimmy’s tongue, whimpering as his cream spilled over those pouty lips, until it ran down his own thigh. 

It seemed to go on forever; Jimmy’s soft tongue licking the head of his swollen prick, coaxing out the last drops. It was so sweet, so satisfying, that even after his bollocks were drained, he still moaned with the intense pleasure of Jimmy’s light teasing tongue licking him until finally his cock sank to half-mast.

Jimmy settled himself exactly where he had been, back to Robert’s front, and craned his neck to kiss as Robert grabbed him around the waist and held him tightly. His thigh was sticky with come, and so was Jimmy’s chest, and there was a pearly drop on his sweet rosy lips, but he didn’t mind as he kissed him, kissed his neck, his hair, he whispered blandishments in his ear, about his hot mouth and his sexy body. 

“The way you sucked me off, I almost lost my mind.”

“You came buckets,” whispered Jimmy. “So did I.” He took Robert’s hand and rubbed it into the pearly come slicked over his belly. “We’re so dirty. Especially your mouth. The things you say, the way you moan, it’s so hot.” 

“Think so?” Robert said, grinning like a fool. He loved making Jimmy shoot halfway up his chest, loved the feel under his fingers of the slippery mess left by his delicious climax. “We are quite sticky, though. Let’s bathe.” The thought of the icy-cold water after the heat of their passionate encounter was enticing to Robert. It would be good to dunk his hair, to rinse away the sweat and come. 

Jimmy stood up reluctantly, clearly less enchanted with the idea of an icy-cold swim. He nevertheless stepped out his pants and shorts. Robert stood up and slid down his own pants. Coming so hard without even taking off our trousers, we are boss, thought Robert. 

They made their way down the grassy slope to the pebbly shore of the creek. It was a lovely spot, with fine sand leading up to the shore, and the clear water showing the pebbly bed of the creek. Robert dipped a toe in; he had to admit it to himself that it was freezing. Thinking it best to get it over with, he walked into the creek, striding purposely, doing his best to avoid flinching. When he was in up to his waist, he dived in, swam to the middle of the creek, and came up gasping. 

“It’s not too bad,” he lied, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. 

Jimmy looked at the creek doubtfully. “I suppose it’s the only chance of any kind of bath. That’s fine. This is fine,” he said gamely, walking into the water. It hit him with a shock, but only when he was up to his thighs did he actually shriek. 

“Fuck, Rob, it’s ice-cold, how are you not dying?”

“I’m a country boy,“ said Robert, paddling around on his back to show how little he cared. In fact he could barely stand it and was swimming to try to warm himself up. He swam closer to Jimmy and stood up. “Might as well get your head wet. You’ve come this far,” he said, and he circled an arm around Jimmy’s shivering shoulders and together they dived into the creek. Jimmy shot up with a cry, his dark hair plastered over his head like a seal. “I can’t stand this. I’m going back.” 

Robert caught his wrist, pulled him close to kiss his cold, shivering lips, he wrapped his arms around him. “I’ll warm you up.”

“You are like an icicle yourself. How can you take it?”

“Must be the Viking blood. Eh, actually, I’m freezing my bollocks off, just like Awbrey said I would. But at least we’re clean, or as clean as we can get here in the country.” They waded out to the banks, and Robert got the towels, and they stood shivering and toweling themselves off, feeling the crisp air much more so than when they were tangled in their heated embrace. Robert had clean shirts for them, and even socks, and they dressed in the fading daylight. He packed the basket up again, folding the rug on top of the leftover food and their dirty clothing. 

They began the walk back to the house. It was twilight, Robert’s favorite time, and the rosy-gold beauty of the countryside was so stunning that they walked in silence, drinking it in. The cold dunk following the deliciously hard climax had left Robert invigorated. He felt exceptionally well-rested, but also buzzing with the kind of creative energy that often preceded his best writing. “I got a girl named Sue, she knows just what to do,” he sang happily, his voice echoing over the hills. 

“I rock to the east, she rock to the west, but she's the girl that I love the best,” Jimmy sang in response, to his delight, for he rarely sang, did not like the sound of his own voice, which Robert thought was sweet like a choir boy’s.

They were on the footpath, and Bron-Yr-Aur cottage appeared over the crest.

“What should we do tonight? We could go to the inn for dinner,” he suggested, not wanting to, not wanting to take Jimmy away from this hideaway where he had stashed him, but testing the waters. 

“No,” said Jimmy, in that unexpectedly forceful way that he spoke sometimes. It was always a surprise to Robert, and it brought to mind the dark, passionate, aggressive side of the normally soft-spoken Jimmy, “We’re not going anywhere. Except to your bedroom,” he said meaningfully. “I’m going to have you on a proper bed and not against a bloody tree.” His eyes flashed at Robert, burned into his until he forgot to breathe, forgot everything as he fell into the deep and moss-green pools.

“Yes,” Robert finally breathed out. “It was nice against the tree, though.”

“Nice? It was fucking fantastic. But I want you on clean sheets and a soft bed, I want you until we both can’t take it anymore, and fall asleep wrapped in each other, and then I want to wake up the next day and have you again without getting out of bed, Robert,” and he grabbed him and pulled him close for a tight hug, burying his face in the thick golden curls, kissing his forehead, his neck, and finally his lips, before taking his hand and striding purposefully towards the gate. 

Robert thought to himself, for the first time, really, that he could be alone with Jimmy all night in the cottage without electricity or water or anything but the two of them, the two of them alone in the dark, keeping each other warm. There would be cavorting, and music, and they would probably get stoned and drunk, and he was definitely going to kiss those lips again, oh yes, and a lot more, a whole lot more.


End file.
